


I Heard Your Voice In A Dream

by emolee96



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-13 23:31:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emolee96/pseuds/emolee96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So basically, Grantaire hears this voice in his head and he doesn't realize it's Enjolras until he meets him in college. I'm terrible at summaries and even worse at titles. From this tumblr post: http://thatsnotjohngreen.tumblr.com/post/52155738319/consultingmoosecaptain-boazpriestly</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But Grantaire listened, because let's be serious here, who in their right mind is going to argue with the voice inside their head?

Grantaire started hearing the voice when he was seventeen. Well, that's not exactly true. If he really thought about it, he supposed he'd been hearing the voice for most of his life. When he read, when he thought, he heard this voice, not his own. But her started noticing it when he was seventeen.

He didn't tell anyone, of course. His mother, however much he loved her would have had him institutionalized. (Not that she would have been wrong, of course, but he was trying to sae the mental hospital milestone for after he graduated from college.) His friends would have thought he was crazy. Because normal teenagers do not talk about their emotions or anything out of the ordinary.They just aggressively pretend nothing's wrong, until the eventually convince themselves and everyone else that it's the truth. (Jehan, he would alter learn, was experiencing the same thing, but again, teenagers don't talk about these things.)

This voice was constantly present in his mind, even whe he tried his hardest to pretend it wasn't there. It didn't just sit quietly in thebackground and read his thoughts and narrate  _Harry Potter_ either. No, it commented. Every situation Grantaire was in, every choice he had to make, this voice had an opinion, more often than not totally different from Grantaire's own. It was so idealistic, so set on changing things, coming up with schemes Grantaire didn't believe could ever happen. But Grantaire listened, because let's be serious here, who in their right mind is going to argue with the voice inside their head?

Then Grantaire was in college, and nothing was ever quite the same again.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Damn." Jehan muttered. "I'm going to have to watch what I dream now that I know Courf can read my mind." But Grantaire, as it turns out, was not so far into sleep that he couldn't throw another pillow at his best friend's head.

Grantaire's first day of college wasn't that bad, all things considered. He was rooming with Jehan, who he'd known since first grade, and even though everything in the room was covered in floral print, letting him handle decorating the entire room so that everything was perfectly coordinated was the best decision Grantaire had made to date.

"Isn't this great?" Jehan sighed as the two flopped down on their matching red and black paisley comforters after a long night of unpacking.

"Yeah, I guess," Grantaire said reluctantly, turning on the next episode of Arrested Development.

"What's wrong?" Jehan turned to face his best friend. His blue eyes were full of concern.

"Nothing," Grantaire sighed, "I just feel like I should be happier right now, and I'm not, that's all."

"Give it time, we haven't even been here a whole day yet," Jehan said encouragingly. "You should come to this meeting I'm going to tomorrow."

"What meeting?"

"Well, you know that guy Courfeyrac? He lives down the hall?" Jehan's face turned bright red as he mentioned Courfeyrac's name. Truthfully, he was really cute, and even though they'd only just met, Jehan felt like he'd known him his whole life. He broke out of his reverie to continue. "He and his two best friends from high school started this group that fights for social change, the Friends of something or other, I can't remember exactly, but they're having a meeting tomorrow and Courf invited us and I think we should go."

"I don't know, it doesn't sound like my thing," Grantaire said. "But you really like this Courfeyrac guy, huh?" he asked when he noticed how Jehan's face fell.

"I really do, yeah," and just like that, the poet embodied the sun again.

"Then I'll go with you. I'm going to need to develop a social life anyway." With that, the matter was settled, and the two lapsed into a comfortable silence. That was the beauty of their friendship, Grantaire thought. They could both talk each other to death, but each knew when the other needed quiet, too, and they were just as comfortable saying nothing at all. he supposed that came with twelve years of friendship.

After just lying there for a while, trying to drown out the voice in his head telling him the meeting might actually be a good thing, that he didn't need ot be so cynical all the time, Grantaire gave up. he reached under his mattress and pulled out his notebook and lucky pen. Writing always quieted his mind when nothing else seemed to work.

intrigued by the frenzied scratch of pen on paper, Jehan craned his neck to try and get a glimpse of Grantaire's writing. "What are you writing about now, R?" he asked when his attempts failed.

"Just a song," Grantaire shrugged.

Jehan shook his head. Grantaire always got like this when he was writing. he was so caught up in writing down how he felt that he didn't want to talk, but if he didn't talk... Well, Jehan had seen the consequences and it was not a moment he wanted to relive. "About?" he prompted, because if Grantaire was going to tell anyone, it would be Jehan.

"Promise you won't laugh?" Grantaire asked.

"Never."

"Do you ever get the feeling that when you hear that voice in your head when you think and stuff, it's not yours? That's it's someone else? And you feel like you have to find this person, whatever it takes?"

"Courfeyrac," Jehan said quietly.

"Yeah, what about him? Does that even have anything to do with what I just said?" Grantaire was, understandably, a bit confused, as he'd never even met "this Courfeyrac guy" as he'd referred to him earlier.

"No - I mean yes - but Courfeyrac, he felt so familiar when I met him, you know? And I think that's why, I just didn't realize it until you said it!" Jehan exclaimed.

Grantaire sat up on his bed. "So it's not just me, then?" he asked. "Thank God. I thought I was insane.

"Well, we aren't ruling that out just yet," Jehan teased. He stifled a screech as Grantaire threw his pillow at him and almost hit him in the face. He threw the pillow back with equal force, and Grantaire caught it, letting out a small chuckle before turning out the light.

"G'night, Prouvaire," he muttered into his former-projectile-now-pillow.

"'Night, R." And then later, when he thought Grantaire was asleep, he sighed heavily. "Damn." he muttered. "I'm going to have to watch what I dream now that Courf can read my mind." But Grantaire, as it turns out, was not so far into sleep that he couldn't throw another pillow at his best friend.

 


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He says, 'I have come to sleep with you' and I look up at him from the computer because I'm watching Game of Thrones, and I say 'Well, that's lovely, but I'd like to get to know you a bit first, and also there's already a fantastic guy down the hall who I kind of have a massive crush on, so you'll have to get in line.'"

"Are you coming or not?" Jehan asked Grantaire the next day. The poet was busy getting ready while Grantaire lay on his bed, dark curls spread around his head like a halo, headphones jammed in his ears. "Are you even listening to me?" Jehan sighed. "Nope. Of course you aren't. Why would you?"

"Are you trying to talk to me?" Grantaire asked him after a minute. "Sorry. Sometimes I just need to listen to some American Idiot, you know?"

Jehan nodded. "I understand perfectly. Musical or actual album?"

"Musical, of course. Their version of 21 Guns is fantastic. But what were you saying?"

"You're coming to the meeting, right?" Jehan asked. "The one Courf was talking about, I mean. You should. You need to get outside."

Grantaire rolled his eyes. "It's been twenty-four hours, not four months, Jehan. I'm fine. But yeah, of course I'm coming. I promised, didn't I?"

"And you're not wearing that, are you? Please say you're not wearing that," Jehan pleaded.

Grantaire pretended to be insulted. "Are you making fun of my shirt? It's a great shirt!" 

"Yeah, okay, but you slept in it."

"And nobody’s seen me in it, which is why I can still wear it in public."

"Change your clothes, idiot," Jehan laughed. He threw a fresh t-shirt and a pair of jeans at Grantaire to shut him up. He sighed, but put them on anyway. Jehan obviously wanted to impress Courfeyrac and Grantaire wasn't going to be the one to stop him. Plus, the green t-shirt brought out his eyes, or so he'd been told, and he did occasionally make conessions to his vanity. When he finished changing, he pulled on his ancient, beat up black Converse and shoved his sketchbook and pencils in his bag.

"You ready?" Jehan asked. He had also, conceivably, put a lot of thought into his outfit, and though Grantaire wouldn't necessarily have paired the floral skinny jeans, striped swear and flip flops with that particular scarf, it was completely Jehan.

"Yeah," Grantaire eyed his notebook and lucky pen for a moment before placing the notebook carefully in his bag and sliding the pen behind his ear. "Well, now I am."

Jehan laughed. "Okay then. We're meeting Courf at his room and then heading over. Acceptable?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Point taken. Shall we?" Jehan walked out of the room, grabbing his camera on the way out, just in case, and locking the door behind them.

Courfeyrac, as it turned out, was pretty cool as people go, and seemed totally smitten with Jehan, so Grantaire approved. (Not that Jehan needed his approval, but he gave it either way. Grantaire wasn't one to hold back his opinions, as you will learn later. Or maybe you already have. On with the story, though.) They soon slipped into an easy familiarity, liked they'd all known each other for years instead of a day at most. 

"Hey, R, want to hear a story?" Courfeyrac asked him as they walked to the meeting, which was at a coffee shop called the Musain.

"Sure, why not?" Grantaire said.

Courfeyrac turned around and began to walk backward. (Grantaire had trailed a bit behind the two as soon as they'd started walking. Give them space and all that. Plus, the light was great and he was able to get a few good pictures that he knew Jehan would demand to see as soon as they got home.)

"Courf, darling, don't hurt yourself," Jehan said warningly, but Grantaire could hear the laughter in his voice.

"Hold my hand if you think I'm going to fall, then," Courfeyrac challenged, and Jehan did. Grantaire almost burst out laughing when he saw the goofy smile that spread across Courfeyrac's face, but he managed to restrain himself and snapped a quick picture instead.

"So I have this roommate, right? Name's Marius Pontmercy. I think I might have to make him an honorary member of the Ridiculous Name Club, of which I am currently the soul member, but that's not the point. He comes in yesterday after I met Jehan, and you want to know what he says?"

"What?" Grantaire asked.

"He says, 'I have come to sleep with you' and I look up at him from the computer because I'm watching Game of Thrones, and I say 'Well, that's lovely, but I'd like to get to know you a bit first, and also there's already a fantastic guy down the hall who I kind of have a massive crush on, so you'll have to get in line.'"

"Courf!" Jehan exclaimed. Grantaire couldn't see his face, but he knew it had turned bright red. Courfeyrac, who was laughing at his own story, promptly tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and would have fallen had Jehan not caught him. Grantaire laughed even harder than this than he had at Courfeyrac's story.

"But that's not even the best part!" Courfeyrac said once he regained his breath and his balance.

"What the best part?" Jehan asked.

"After I said that, he ran out of the room and I haven't seen him since. Oh, we're here, by the way."

"Maybe you should walk like a normal human being now," Jehan suggested.

"And that is why you're the clever on and I'm the potato one," Courfeyrac told him.

"Yes, dearest," Jehan said patronizingly.

The cafe was surprisingly nice, or at least Grantaire thought so. A few people had already gathered in one corner and were re-arranging some of the chairs. Grantaire assumed they were Courfeyrac's other friends.

"You two go ahead, I'm going to get a coffee, be there in a sec," he told them. Courfeyrac and Jehan, still holding hands, walked over to join the group in the corner, and Grantaire made his was over to the counter, trying to decide what he wanted to drink.

"You must be one of Courf's new friends," the barista said. "I'm Éponine. What can I get you?" Éponine was tiny, but somehow also infinitely terrifying. Her long, dark brown hair was pulled back into a braid, but stray curls were escaping in all directions.

"Um," Grantaire said eloquently. (He hadn't really made his decision yet, and he was a bit intimidated now) "Just give me the most caffeinated thing you have. But make it taste good."

"Coming right up," Éponine laughed. She'd had more difficult orders in her life.

Grantaire leaned against the counter. "So, how do you know Courf already? Wait, not important. Who's the blonde guy? He’s kind of attractive."

Éponine shook her head. "I knew it wouldn't take long. Also, only kind of? What are you, blind?" she joked, "But I've known the guys since grade school. When they started having their meeting here, I got this job so I could have an excuse to come. That was, oh, 2 years ago, I'd say, when Courf got his license and his mom's minivan so he could drive all of us places." She placed his coffee on the counter. "Here. Large, black, triple shot of espresso, two pumps of hazelnut syrup, and a dash of cinnamon. Same as Enjolras drinks. Don't bother paying, either, I'll just charge him for it later, he won't even notice once he's all caught up in revolution. Hey, Enj, you owe me for an extra coffee!" she shouted across the cafe, and Grantaire heard Courfeyrac laugh.

"Enjolras?" Grantaire couldn't place the name, but it felt familiar.

"The blonde. The one you thought was attractive. Now go flirt."

 


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire pulled out his phone and sent a text to Jehan.
> 
> to JEHAN: you know what we were talking about last night? i think i found mine. it's enjolras. we need to talk later.

Coffee in hand, Grantaire walked over to join Jehan, Courfeyrac, and the others. Courfeyrac was quick to introduce him to everyone: Bahorel, who was quite cheerful despite a black eye that looked extremely painful; Feuilly, whose bright red hair was almost as shocking as his passion for Poland and his ability to fold the cafe's paper napkins into any shape imaginable; Joly, who, once introduced to Grantaire, immediately began to lecture him  on the dangers of consuming too much caffeine; Bossuet, who stumbled in fifteen minutes late and dripping wet, despite the beautiful weather outside, and was completely clueless as to how he could have gotten so soaked; Combeferre, who, in his own quiet way was extremely funny; and Enjolras, who greeted him quickly and welcomed him to the revolution before launching into a tirade about equality in the workforce.

Grantaire sat himself in the back corner of the room, where he could sketch and listen with anyone trying to peek over his shoulder.  _Do you even want to be here? Do you even care?_ he heard the voice in his head say. he ignored it, though, because he was in the middle of a particularly good drawing, if he did say so himself.  _Do you have any opinion on this at all?_ That damn voice again. Grantaire looked up from his sketchbook when he got that peculiar feeling one tends to get when they are being stared at.

"What?" he asked, "I mean, I know I'm extremely attractive, but why are you all staring at me?" (He was joking about the attractive part. He didn't see himself that way at all, but we'll cover that eventually.)

Enjolras sighed, obviously annoyed. "I asked if you cared about this topic, if you had anything add, since you certainly look like you have some sort of opinion, but I see that's apparently not the case."

"Me?" Grantaire scoffed, "Nope. No opinion. I mean, other than the fact that you're never going to get anywhere with this argument."

Enjolras' eyes widened in shock, and Combeferre sighed. He would be the one who had to deal with the backlash, after all. Enjolras didn't take well to people disagreeing with his arguments. "Do tell me more," Enjolras said, every word a challenge.

"It's not that you're not right, your argument's just too idealistic. Plus, you need to fact-check. A lot of employers, specifically in the sciences, are looking to hire women over men. And cite all the statistics and yell at as many people as you want, but they're less likely to support you if you yell at them in your speeches. And you really want their support, and I right?"

"You have a point," Enjolras conceded. "But the support of the politicians is nothing compared to the support of the people, which is what we really need."

"But the people, for some insane reason, trust the politicians," Grantaire argued, "And they won't support you unless people they trust support you. I mean, you're probably not going to change a thing anyway, but kill 'em with kindness, that's all I'm saying."

 _Cynical, but you have a point_ said the voice in his head. So did Enjolras. "Next topic: Fair-trade coffee and such," Enjolras said.

Bahorel groaned. "Didn't we exhaust this last time?"

Grantaire pulled out his phone and sent a text to Jehan.

**to JEHAN: you know what we were talking about last night? i think i found mine. it's enjolras. we need to talk later.**

**from JEHAN: of course. should i tell courf?**

**to JEHAN: no. don't tell anyone. not yet. i don't think enjolras quite realizes it yet, i mean he might, i don't know i can't read his mind oh wait yes i can but that's not the point. i just don't think we should tell anyone yet. have you told anyone about you and courf?**

**from JEHAN: not yet. we want to try things out for a while first. apparently this happens to everyone, though. eventually. that's what courf told me, he did some research last night. but nobody talks about it because personal autonomy and all that. but we'll talk later, k?**

**to JEHAN: k. think it would be weird if i took a few pictures? he looks absolutely gorgeous in this light.**

**from JEHAN: are you trying to creep him out?**

**to JEHAN: of course not.**

**from JEHAN: then no pictures. you can already read his mind, isn't that enough for one night?**

 


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We're technically supposed to be closed, but does that matter to them? Of course not," Éponine muttered sarcastically as she organized the flavored syrups. She didn't care, of course. She liked it when they stayed at the cafe after closing, but she would never admit that to them. It would take half the fun out of their relationship.

"I need to talk to you. Now." Enjolras said to Combeferre, who was talking to Éponine about something. Feminism, probably, Enjolras thought. Éponine tended to talk about feminism a lot. 

"What is it?" Combeferre sighed. "I'm kind of talking right now."

"But this is important!" Enjolras looked distressed. While this wasn't unusual for him (he was always worried about some crisis of humanity or another), it still worried Combeferre. He only got upset like this when he thought it was something serious (which tended to be a lot of the time, but still.).

"We'll talk later. I'll text you," Combeferre promised Éponine before turning his full attention to Enjolras. "Ok, what's up?"

Enjolras looked around the cafe. "Is Grantaire still here?" he asked.

Combeferre shook his head, "I'm sure it's kind of obvious, but no, he's not. He and Jehan left with Courf a while ago. We are the only ones here. Why?"

"We're technically supposed to be closed, but does that matter to them? Of course not," Éponine muttered sarcastically as she organized the flavored syrups. She didn't care, of course. She liked it when they stayed at the cafe after closing, but she would never admit that to them. It would take half the fun out of their relationship.

"This involves him," Enjolras explained. "I have a problem, 'Ferre."

"What, that he disagrees with you? It's good for you to have someone who doesn't agree with every word you say. Plus, he is right," Combeferre said reasonably. He was a very logical person, Combeferre. This was the primary reason he had become the group's unofficial therapist. Also, he was usually (ok, always) right.

"That's not it, though," Enjolras complained. He pushed his hair out of his face with a force usually reserved for particularly important speeches.

"Puff levels are high," Éponine observed, "This really is serious." She busied herself with cleaning the counter and looking innocent when they both glared at her.

Enjolras pulled Combeferre over to what had become their corner of the cafe. "I'm serious," he said, "We need to talk. Now. 

"Then talk!" Combeferre was obviously getting annoyed with him. "God, for someone who's so eloquent most of the time, you certainly aren't tonight. Use your words. 

Enjolras sighed and attempted to formulate a response in his head before speaking. "It's Grantaire," he said slowly. "I don't know. He irritates me to no end. He doesn't agree with a single thing we believe in, I don't even know why he bothered to come tonight, but at the same, he fascinates me. I want to listen to him. It's like he voices all those things in the back of mind that I always tried to ignore," he trailed off for a moment, thinking. "Do you remember that talk we went to last year, the one we couldn't ell our parents about?"

"You mean all of them?" Combeferre laughed, "But I know what you mean, the one with the guy who had the theory about the mental bonding thing. Why?"

"He was right," Enjolras said quietly, "How people try to pretend it's not real, how you know the moment you find them that something's different, how you hear their voice in the back of your mind but you don't realize it until you meet them. It all makes sense!"

"Okay," Combeferre attempted to process this information. To be fair, Enjolras did sound a little bit crazy. "Well then. What are you going to do about it?" 

"I don't know," Enjolras sighed, "What would you do?"

"Well, I wouldn't say anything to him yet. You're basing this purely on speculation, and for all you know, you could be totally wrong. I'm not denying that you probably have feelings for him, and strong feelings at that, but I've known you for fifteen years. You've never even had slight feelings for anyone before, though God knows people have tried. Could it be possible that you've just never felt like this before and you don't know how to react?" 

"You could be right," Enjolras conceded. "You're probably right. But what should I do?"

"Just don't say anything to him yet. Get to know him a little bit more first before you launch into the whole 'by the way, we're permanently bonded and nothing you do can change that, so we're stuck together for life, by the way I'm Enjolras we haven't really talked yet' thing," Combeferre said. "Let the relationship develop on its own a little bit more first." 

"Why are you always right?" Enjolras sighed. He checked his watch. "Oh! It's only 9:30. I've got time to stop at the bookstore and pick up that new biography of Robespierre they ordered for me. I'll see you later," Enjolras squeezed his friend's hand. "Thank you." And just like that, he was done with love and on to the Revolution once again.

"You know what the worst part of all this is?" Combeferre asked Éponine once Enjolras had gone.

"What?" she didn't even try to hide the fact that she'd been eavesdropping the entire time.

"I think he might actually be right."

 


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Get to know him for a bit before you say 'By the way, I hear your voice in my head all the time and I think I might be in love with you.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't normally do this notes thing because I'm terrible at them, but I was on a school trip to the Grand Canyon and Bryce and Zion and then I was at a summer camp for engineering, so I haven't been home in a week and a half, and as a result I've been without internet access. However, I was able to write while I was gone, so this will all be posted fairly regularly again. So yeah. I told you I was bad at this. Now on with the story!

"So you and Enjolras, it's like Courfeyrac and me, then?" Jehan asked Grantaire when the two arrived back at their room after the meeting.

"I don't know," Grantaire fell face first onto his bed and buried his face in the pillow in true dramatic teenager fashion. "What do I do?" he complained. 

"Well, the hopeless romantic in me says you should go to him right now and tell him everything, and then you two will fall in love and ride off into the sunset in his absolutely awful car if it doesn't fall apart before then, and if there are no disasters with said car, you'll live happily ever after." He took a sip of his tea, wincing when he realized it was still a little bit too hot to drink safely. 

"Please tell me that's not your actual advice." 

Jehan sighed. "You have no faith in me." 

"I'm a cynic, it's kind of what I do." Grantaire shrugged. Well, attempted to shrug. Shrugging while lying on your stomach on your bed is actually a lot harder than it sounds, and it didn't really work out that well for him, but the shrug was implied.

Jehan couldn't help laughing at that. (Both Grantaire's comment and the failed shrug. Both things were quite comical.) "My logical side says to give it time," he told Grantaire. "Get to know him for a bit before you say 'By the way, I hear your voice in my head all the time and I think I might be in love with you.'"

"That's not what you and Courfeyrac did," Grantaire pointed out, like the petulant four-year-old this was apparently turning him into.

Jehan sighed and shook his head. "Well, my advice still stands. Now go to bed. We have class in the morning."


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Half the time, Enjolras was the one that ended up teaching the class and the teacher just sat there and drank coffee. And took notes. Because it is totally normal for a teacher to take notes on what a student is saying. Combeferre was also in this class where Enjolras taught and the professor took notes. But let's face it; Enjolras was really the thing Grantaire was most focused on.

Grantaire's classes were pretty ok, all things considered. He had an art class with Feuilly, who he already knew from the meetings, English with Jehan and Courfeyrac, and history with none other than Enjolras himself, who took the French Revolution and some other one that happened in 1832 way too seriously. He went on about them constantly. Half the time, he was the one that ended up teaching the class and the teacher just sat there and drank coffee. And took notes. Because it is totally normal for a teacher to take notes on what a student is saying. Combeferre was also in this class where Enjolras taught and the professor took notes. But let's face it; Enjolras was really the thing Grantaire was most focused on. 

And then a week passed, full of classes and homework and awful getting-to-know-you activities, which had made their way onto Grantaire's list of things he hated most in the world, right between people who use coupons at the grocery store and people who decided that everyone has to go to college to be truly successful in life.

But the week went by, and it was Saturday again, and time for another meeting at the cafe. Grantaire and Jehan headed over, stopping on the way to pick up Courfeyrac and, apparently, his roommate Marius.

"He's nice, once you get used to him," Courfeyrac promised them as they walked over. He, Jehan, and Grantaire were walking side-by-side. Marius trailed slightly behind them. He still couldn't quite get over the fact that there were girls on campus (he'd gone to an all-boys high school and had been homeschool before that), and he stopped and stared in disbelief every time he saw them walk by. Which was often.

"He claims he's descended from some kind of French royalty, I don't know, he told me the story, it has something to do with Napoleon and Waterloo. I just told him not to tell Enjolras because we all know how he gets when you bring up Napoleon. Well, maybe you don't. But I do. And it's bad. Anyway, once I refused to refer to him as Baron, he kind of dropped it," Courfeyrac explained. "He's like a little lost puppy. He just needs some kind of instruction on what normal people do on a daily basis."

Jehan laughed. "Courf, be nice," he admonished.

"I'm being perfectly nice!" he exclaimed. He opened the door of the cafe. "Marius, we're here!" he called. Marius, who had been distracted by a butterfly that had landed on his finger, hurried over to join them. 

"R, you haven't said a word, are you sure you're okay?" Jehan whispered to him as they walked in.

"I'm fine. Just nervous," he told him. "Don't know why, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but I am. Do you have gum? Just in case?"

"Just act normal. You'll be fine. I'm going to be right here in case anything happens. But nothing is going to happen because you are going to be perfectly fine," Jehan reassured him, handing him a few sticks of gum. He always carried it around in his bag, just in case. He never knew when Grantaire was going to need it, and Grantaire was notorious for forgetting the really important things in life.

Grantaire walked up to the counter and ordered coffee, because that was what he did last time, so that was normal. He would do that again because he knew how to do that and he knew what he wanted and it didn't make him nervous at all because Éponine was a very nice person and she gave him free coffee. Enjolras was sitting in the corner, and he waved when he saw Grantaire. That was not normal. Grantaire did not know how to react. But he waved back, because he figured that was what anyone else would do in that particular situation, and then turned to Éponine. "So does he like me or not?" he asked her. "Also, same thing as last week, please and thank you, and I can pay this time."

She laughed at him. "Nervous much?" she asked. He glared at her, mostly teasing but partly because she did not know how true that actually was. This, however, only made her laugh more. She turned to the girl next to her at the counter, who Grantaire had barely even noticed before, since he was so focused on Enjolras and making everything as normal as possible. "Cosette, this is Grantaire," she said to her. "He's kind of the resident cynic. He's also obsessed with Enjolras, they drink the exact same kind of coffee, and he seems to do a little bit of everything."

"And you got that from one meeting?" he raised his eyebrows. "Impressive." This was a conversation. Conversations were good. Conversations did not make Grantaire nervous. Unless they were with Enjolras, then they did.

She shrugged. "I observe. But anyone can do that. You're being rude, though. I haven't finished introducing you yet. Grantaire, this is Cosette. Major in mechanical engineering, but she wants to go on to do what was it, aerospace? Nuclear? I can never remember."

"Aerospace, but I'm thinking of focusing on nuclear for fun, I think it's interesting," Cosette said patiently.

"Right!" Éponine snapped her fingers. "I totally knew that. I did. She's also minoring in women's studies. She's kind of awesome."

Cosette smiled at Grantaire. Her teeth were so white it was almost blinding, which Grantaire had previously thought was impossible and kind of a ridiculous cliché, but of course, he had never met Cosette.

"Ok, I'm not trying to flirt here -"

"Because he's straight as a circle," Éponine interrupted. Grantaire glared at her again, totally in fun this time, because he wasn't nervous anymore, this was good, this was very good, but his glare mustn’t have been as scary as he'd always thought it was, because she simply gave him a self-satisfied smirk and giggled.

"Make my coffee, woman," he told her (jokingly, of course. If he had been serious, she would have punched him in the face before he could finish the sentence) before turning back to Cosette. "Like I was saying before, though, have you every modeled? Because I would seriously like to paint you sometime, if that's cool with you."

"Oh!" Cosette seemed surprised. "Sure, I guess. I mean, if you really think so."

Then Grantaire realized he should have clarified more, because while he knew perfectly well what he was talking about, he knew what a lot of people thought he meant when he talked about modelling for a painting. "I mean, it's not like you would be a life model or anything. I would just take your picture in places and paint from that."

She seemed relieved. "Well, in that case, I'd love to!" She peered over Grantaire's shoulder, which proved to be quite a task, since she was about six inches shorter than him, and he wasn't particularly tall to begin with.

"Who is that?" she whispered to him and pointed at... Marius?

"Seriously?" Grantaire asked. She nodded, quite seriously indeed, her brown eyes wide. "That's Marius. He's Courfeyrac's roommate and probably the most awkward person I've ever come in contact with, including myself, and I thought I held the record for most awkward contained in one person."

"I think I'm in love with him," she breathed.

"Oh, God, not you too," Éponine complained, "I swear, if one more person falls in love, I'm going to be sick. First Jehan and Courf, then Enjolras and R, now you and Pontmercy. Will it ever end? Also, Grantaire's right. Marius totally holds the record for most awkward person ever. He used to be my neighbor for a while, but then I had to move. I was twelve. I think I had a crush on him. I stole his mail one time and switched it with ours so that he would come talk to me. It was embarrassing." she set Grantaire's coffee down on the counter. "I'll make Enjolras pay for yours again, he probably won't even notice."

"Thanks," he said. "Well, time to face the music, I suppose."

"Ave atque vale," Éponine said seriously.

"What?" 

"It's Latin," she explained, "It means 'hail and farewell.' It's in a book series I'm reading, it's what they say to someone when they die."

"Well that's encouraging," Grantaire said sarcastically, because it wasn't at all, not really, and now he was nervous again, or were the jitters from the coffee? He never could tell. He picked up his bag and his drink and headed over to the seat in the corner that Bahorel had saved for him, humming 'Magic to Do' from Pippin, because he had been the Leading Player one time and also that song always seemed to calm him down, even though he didn't know why. He sat down in the chair with a sighed and pulled out a sketchbook. "Nice black eye," he said to Bahorel, like this was a totally normal way to start a conversation with someone. (With Bahorel, it was.)

Bahorel laughed. "Thank. Feuilly gave it to me."

Grantaire rolled his eyes. "Do I want to know?"

"No, you don't, you do not want to know, Bahorel, if you tell him, I will kill you and I'm serious this time because Enjolras' reaction was funny yeah but this is not cool because just no don't do it please!" Feuilly cut in. His face was a brighter shade of red than his hair. Grantaire and Bahorel burst out laughing.

"Bahorel, Grantaire, would you care to tell us what is so funny back there?" Enjolras asked impatiently, even though he already had a pretty good idea of what was so funny and was praying to whatever higher power exists that Bahorel would do the smart thing and not announce it to the entire group.

"Nothing, sorry," they both said at the same time.

"Well, then, let's get this meeting started, shall we? I was talking to Combeferre, and there's a rally in a two weeks' time, I think we should all plan on going." Enjolras kept talking, but Grantaire tuned him out, opting instead to pull out his sketchbook and a pencil and being a new drawing.

 _Not even paying attention. I don't understand why you even bother coming to these meetings,_ Enjolras said angrily.

 **I don't know why you think I come for the ideas.**  Grantaire was annoyed. 

 _Why do you come, then? To draw? You could do that anywhere. What are you drawing, anyway?_ Enjolras sounded legitimately upset, like he couldn't understand why someone wouldn't believe in what he was saying.

_**A bird of paradise, but that's not the point. I come for the coffee, okay, Apollo?** _

_The coffee?_

**_Yes. Éponine makes fantastic coffee._ **

"Enjolras, are you okay?" Combeferre asked at the same time that Bahorel tugged on Grantaire's sleeve and said "R, stop staring, it's creepy."

It was then that they both realized it was totally silent in the room, and that the argument they had been having was entirely in their heads.

"Oh, sorry, just thinking," Enjolras said casually, like nothing had just happened, and continued talking about their plans for the rally.

"So, what are you drawing Grantaire?" Enjolras asked him after the meeting was over, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened and everything was totally normal.

"Bird of paradise," Grantaire shrugged, like it was a totally normal conversation (it was) and they totally hadn't already discussed this in their heads earlier. (Spoiler alert: they had. But you knew that already.)

"May I?" Enjolras held out his hand, and after a few seconds of quick last-minute erasing, Grantaire reluctantly gave it to him.

Enjolras held the sketchbook carefully, not wanting to smudge any of Grantaire's work. He looked at it quizzically for a moment, tilted his head slightly to the side, and then turned the sketchbook upside-down. "It's great," he said. "I mean, you're really talented, but if it's a bird of paradise, where's the head?"

Grantaire bit his lip to keep from laughing. He failed in the end, but at least he had made the effort. "Enj, a bird of paradise is a flower," he told him, once he had regained control of his voice again. He had been laughing very hard. 

"Oh," Enjolras looked embarrassed. "Sorry." he fiddled with his papers nervously.

"Dude, not a big deal. People say that all the time. And thanks," he looked over and saw Jehan waiting at the door. "See you next week, then?" 

"Yeah," Enjolras said, suddenly distracted. "See you next week."

Grantaire walked away feeling quite proud of himself, because the gum hadn't been necessary, and aside from the mental argument, he and Enjolras had gotten along pretty well. They'd had an actual conversation, and Enjolras had liked his drawing, so all in all, Grantaire considered the evening a success.

"Today went well, then, I guess," Jehan said as they walked back to their room. Courfeyrac and Marius had been with them at first, but then Marius had stopped to pet a stray cat whose golden fur apparently reminded him of "That other girl who isn't Éponine”’s hair (It was actually just a really dirty white cat, but nobody had the heart to tell him, because it was hilarious) and Courfeyrac figured someone should stay with him while he extemporized so that he didn't hurt himself. This left Jehan and Grantaire walking back to the dorm by themselves, Grantaire strangely quiet while Jehan tried his best to get words out of him.

"R?" 

"Hmm?"

"Today went well, don't you think?" Jehan said again, patient as ever, because he was used to having to get words out of Grantaire, it used to be worse than this, Grantaire used to go days without speaking to anyone, but Jehan could always get him to talk, and so he waited.

"Yeah, I guess so," Grantaire sighed. Jehan didn't press him, because in his book, especially when it came to Grantaire, any words were good words and he hadn't seen him chewing gum all night, and Jehan noticed these things. But Grantaire didn't say anything else, and so neither did Jehan. The poet understood that something the best friends are the ones you can feel comfortable not talking to. (Which is why, ironically, he was the only one Grantaire would talk to no matter what.) He squeezed Grantaire's hand softly, and Grantaire smiled at him, and somehow they both knew that this would all work out eventually. Which was all Grantaire really needed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So bonus points if you spotted the reference to The Mortal Instruments.
> 
> The bird of paradise conversation between Enjolras and Grantaire actually occurred with me and one of my friends. (It was 6AM, we'd gone to bed really late, we were on an airplane, I just assumed that something called a "bird of paradise" would actually be a bird, you know?)
> 
> The gum thing with Grantaire is for panic attacks, that is also something I do, it really does help. I feel like I'm screwing up his life a lot more than necessary, but these two just can't exist being perfectly happy, and it fits with him, I think. At least I hope it does. If it doesn't, I'm doing something wrong and please tell me if that's the case because I will fix it.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Grantaire began ignoring Enjolras' notes, deliberately giving the wrong answer even when he knew what the correct one was. This made Enjolras extremely angry, and at the next meeting, he confronted Grantaire about it.

And everything was good, for a while. Enjolras made it a point to sit next to Grantaire in their history class, even though Grantaire sat close to the back, which was Enjolras' least favorite place to sit. This was proving especially useful for Grantaire. You see, he never really participated in class. Enjolras, on the other hand, participated as vocally and as often as he possibly could. And Dr. Lamarque, their teacher, began to notice Grantaire, who did not always have the correct answer close at hand. He knew it, of course, but sometimes he took a few seconds to think of it. But Enjolras knew the answers right away, of course he did, he was Enjolras, and whenever Dr. Lamarque called on Grantaire, Enjolras would scribble the answer on a piece of paper and slide it onto Grantaire's desk. (There was also the mind-reading thing, which was useful during tests, once Grantaire convinced himself it didn't technically count as cheating. It did, but Grantaire was nothing if not a good liar.) Grantaire was grateful for Enjolras' help at first, of course, but after a while it began to annoy him. Enjolras would give him the answer to the question without even waiting to see if he knew what it was.

So Grantaire began ignoring Enjolras' notes, deliberately giving the wrong answer even when he knew what the correct one was. This made Enjolras extremely angry, and at the next meeting, he confronted Grantaire about it.

"Do you try to fail deliberately?" he asked Grantaire almost as soon as he and Jehan walked through the door. The whole cafe stared at them, eyes wide with shock; because of course they would have picked this meeting to be five minutes later than normal. (They were late because Grantaire was talking to Dr. Lamarque about doing extra credit work, but he wasn't going to bring that up now.)

"I don't know what you mean, Apollo," Grantaire said calmly, because he had learned over the years not to let people like this make him upset. There were consequences if he did. Bad ones. He preferred not to experience them when possible. But Jehan quietly slipped a stick of gum into Grantaire's hand, just in case, because he was Jehan and he was a good friend like that.

"Oh, you know exactly what I mean. You sit in the back of these meeting and don't pay attention to a word I'm saying, you deliberately give the wrong answers in class. It's like you don't care about anything, don't believe in anything."

 _ **I believe in you,**_ Grantaire thought, but he didn't say it out loud, because everyone didn't need to hear it, not yet, and if Enjolras had heard him, well, he wasn't letting it show. So Grantaire spoke, because sometimes he just couldn't keep his mouth shut. This, apparently, was one of those times.

"Maybe it's because I don't want to be one of your causes, Enjolras. Maybe I can do just fine on my own, I don't need you to literally hand me the answers. Because right now, I feel like the only reason you even tolerate me is because you think you can change me. And if that's the only reason you want me around, well then, I might as well just leave now, right?"

Enjolras stared at him. He didn't know what to say. "Grantaire, I - " he started, but he was interrupted.

"You know what? Forget it. I don't want to be one of your causes, so find yourself a new one. I'm going to leave now, before I humiliate myself even more than I already have. I won't see you at the rally tomorrow." With that, Grantaire turned and stormed out of the cafe. Jehan chased after him, because he knew it was a bad idea to let Grantaire be alone right then. Only Enjolras realized that, in Grantaire's haste to make a dramatic exit, his notebook and lucky pen had fallen out of his bag. He slowly walked over and picked them up before turning to the rest of his friends.

"Well," he said quietly, "I don't feel much like talking now, so why don't you all just head home? We'll need a good night's sleep for tomorrow anyway. Meet outside here at 7:30." He managed to slip Grantaire's notebook into his bag without anyone else noticing, and waited for everyone else to leave before sitting down in the chair that was usually Grantaire's. 

"You okay?" Combeferre asked gently, motioning at Éponine and Cosette to leave them alone for a minute. The two excused themselves to the kitchen, and Enjolras looked up at Combeferre, his eyes glistening with tears.

"I messed up, didn't I, 'Ferre?" he asked.

Combeferre, who was always honest in all things, nodded. "I'm not going to lie, Enj. You did. It's nothing you can't fix, but it definitely needs fixing."

"What do I do?" he buried his head in his hands. "What if he never comes back?"

"He'll come back, don't worry," Combeferre promised. "And even if he doesn't come back to meetings for a few weeks, you do have class with hi. You can apologize then. And you  _will_  apologize." Combeferre was firm in this.

"I will," Enjolras said. "I promise. I just wish he was coming tomorrow, it's important to me."

"I think he just needs a little space right now. Especially if he's dealing with everything you are. Give him the weekend. You'll see him on Monday." Combeferre stood up from the table. "Let's go home," he said. "You’ll need some rest before tomorrow."

 


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You look like the Loch Ness Monster," Éponine informed him, obviously ignoring his last comment. With his hair still sticking up in all directions from sleep and the aforementioned hiding under the covers, still wearing his glasses (Which he tried never to be seen in), Grantaire did vaguely resemble a kind of giant squid. Of course, he also looked a lot like an extremely disgruntled teddy bear, but Éponine wasn't going to tell him that. (She told Cosette, later, but that was a different version of the story.)

Jehan shook Grantaire awake early the next morning. "You sure you don't want to go, R?" he asked gently. Grantaire shook his head vigorously and buried himself under the covers. "Okay then," Jehan patted his shoulder. (Well, he assumed it was his shoulder. At this point, Grantaire was an amorphous lump under the covers, so Jehan couldn't really tell what was what. But it felt like shoulder.)

Grantaire lay in bed for a while after Jehan left, contemplating the thing, for lack of a better word, between him and Enjolras. Grantaire would only really hear Enjolras when Enjolras was actually thinking about hi, or if Enjolras was thinking directly at him. Tis made sense, really, but it didn't explain how familiar Enjolras' voice sounded when Grantaire heard it for the first time, like he had been hearing it his entire life but only just realized it. At the same time, though, he hadn't really recognized the voice until he heard Enjolras speaking for the first time, so had he really been there all along, or was Grantaire actually just insane and making all of this up in his head? Either possibility seemed likely. Eventually, he came to the conclusion that he didn't understand it at all and probably never would, and he was giving himself a migraine, so he decided to stop thinking. Thinking tended to hurt, and he tried to do so as infrequently as possible.

"R?" Éponine knocked on his door, "Dude, I know you're in there, Jehan told me you were sulking. At least come sit with us at the cafe if you're not going to go."

Reluctantly, Grantaire got up and opened the door. "Are you going to tell me I need to get out of the room next? Because last time someone said that, it was Jehan, and it ended with me meeting Enjolras, and look how that's gone. Not well."

"You look like the Loch Ness Monster," Éponine informed him, obviously ignoring his last comment. With his hair still sticking up in all directions from sleep and the aforementioned hiding under the covers, still wearing his glasses (Which he tried never to be seen in), Grantaire did vaguely resemble a kind of giant squid. Of course, he also looked a lot like an extremely disgruntled teddy bear, but Éponine wasn't going to tell him that. (She told Cosette, later, but that was a different version of the story.) 

"Thanks," he said sarcastically, "But what makes you think I have the desire to come sit with you in the cafe all day?"

"Free coffee," Éponine shrugged, "I know how you love my coffee. Oh, and you get to meet 'Chetta. She just got back from Spain. Her parents own the cafe, she and Joly and Bossuet have a... thing."

Motivated more by the promise of free coffee than the prospect of meeting another new person (he vaguely remembered hearing about Musichetta and how wonderful she was before, but Grantaire wasn't very good at the people thing, especially when he wasn't with Jehan. He realized he was extremely dependent on Jehan, and this was probably going to cause problems for him in the future. But currently, he was focused on coffee.) He sighed. "Fine, I'll come," he said reluctantly, "Just let me change my clothes and get these stupid glasses off. You can sit if you can find a space somewhere." 

Grantaire changed into a fresh t-shirt and pair of jeans before taking his glasses off and putting his contacts in, dumping the used solution out the window because he was too lazy to walk down the hall to the bathroom. He ran his hands through his hair once, so that it was all facing the same general direction and looked mildly presentable, and picked up his bag. "Vaminos," he said to Éponine, picking up his sunglasses and his keys and walking out of the room.

As the two of them walked to the cafe, Éponine sang quietly to herself, and Grantaire joined in occasionally to add (sometimes terrible) harmony. It was nice, and in the time it took them to walk to the cafe, Grantaire forgot about the events of the night before. If there was one skill he had total pride in, besides what a great liar he was (Which he wasn't really proud of, but valued as a skill all the same, like picking locks or pickpocketing), it was his ability to forget about anything and everything, provided he had a distraction.

"Good morning, sunshines!" Cosette called cheerfully when she saw Grantaire and Éponine. She was wearing a tank top and long, printed skirt and setting out a plate of cookies on the counter.

"Are those cookies?" Grantaire said excitedly. He ran over and picked one up. "Oooh, and they're still warm! Cosette, my darling, you are an angel."

She laughed and plucked the cookie out of this hand before he could take a bite. "Not for you," she teased. "Cookies are only for people who put their big boy pants on and make up with the man they're obviously in love with."

He frowned at her, appalled both by the deprivation of cookies and her use of the phrase "big boy pants." "Well that's just mean," he told her, "He was the one that insulted me in the first place. But we're not thinking about that right now.

"Here you go," Éponine placed a coffee in front of Grantaire. "Your usual. One the house, so you can take the time you would use to pay to feel sorry for yourself."

"Like I've ever paid for coffee here in my life," Grantaire laughed. He slipped a five-dollar bill into the tip jar when Éponine wasn't paying attention, earning him a high-five and a cookie from Cosette.

"What's this nonsense I hear about not paying for coffee?" Musichetta (or at least Grantaire assumed it must be, she was the only one there he didn't already know) asked. "Ah, you must be Grantaire. They've update me on the current situation," she gestured to Éponine and Cosette, "So in this case, free coffee is acceptable and deserved. I'm Musichetta, by the way." Musichetta looked like a ballerina. She was tall and very thin, and her curly black hair was pulled back into a loose braid.

"Thank you," Grantaire said, "And I won't bother you at all, really, I'll just sit in the corner and write or sketch or something."

"By all means, bother them as much as you want," Musichetta laughed. "They'll need entertainment. We've lost all our clients - well, paying clients, you don't count - for the day, so they'll need some form of entertainment. Now, if you three will excuse me, I have a zumba class to attend." Musichetta waltzed back up the stairs and disappeared.

Grantaire sat down in a chair by the counter. He looked through his bag, but couldn't find his notebook and lucky pen anywhere. "'Ponine, did you see me pick up my notebook on the way out?" he asked.

"Nope," she perched herself on the edge of his chair. "What're you doing?"

"Well, I was going to write, but seeing as I am not in possession of the proper tools, that's off the table. I guess I'll just draw instead."

Grantaire pulled out his sketchbook and began to draw, some quick portraits of customers that came into the shop, but mostly drawings of Éponine and Cosette and they laughed and joked and talked about Marius (and apparently Combeferre - who saw that coming?). Musichetta bought them all pizza for lunch because she was a very nice person and Grantaire decided then and there that he was going to like her a lot because he really genuinely liked nice people who gave him food and didn't expect him to talk a lot. They were sitting in a circle on the floor, because chairs are too mainstream, talking and eating their pizza (Musichetta had flipped the sign on the door to CLOSED while they ate, because apparently coffee shops that also served fresh sandwiches were closed at lunchtime. This was news to Grantaire, but he did not complain because he had pizza.)

"Oh, come on, you guys, skipping Nine is like skipping the first Harry Potter!" Grantaire was saying when he dropped his plate on the floor. "Oh, God," he whispered.

"Something's wrong," Cosette said, "I don't know what, but something's wrong, I can feel it."

Musichetta grabbed her purse. "Car. All of you. Now." she ordered, obviously worried.

Grantaire sat in the front seat next to Musichetta, who glanced over at him occasionally to make sure he was okay. Cosette and Éponine sat in the back, clutching each other's hands tightly, unsure of what else to do. None of them knew what to say, and they certainly didn't want to say what they were thinking, so the car ride was mostly silent. Only Éponine spoke, and that was just to give Musichetta directions to the site of the rally. When they got there, Grantaire could immediately see that something was seriously wrong.

 


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras wrapped his arms around Grantaire, snuggling even closer to him than Grantaire thought was possible. Enjolras looked up at him, and Grantaire smiled like it was one of the best days of his life. (It was certainly on the list, in a weird way. "The guy I might be totally in love with almost has panic attack at a rally gone wrong and I save him and then we snuggle in the back of a car that belongs to someone I've known for approximately six hours but she bought me pizza so she's cool" just didn't have the same ring to it as "The time I got a fish for my birthday when I was seven and named it James Bond.")

News vans were parked everywhere, and the reporters had their best serious face on to give the news to their adoring public. Musichetta parked the car and they all jumped out to try to find their friends.

"Seventeen have been seriously wounded at today's rally outside the college campus. There is no word of a suspect yet, but reports say that shots were fired." Grantaire heard one reporter say, but her words didn't fully register in his mind. He was too occupied with his own worries. 

"Enjolras!" he shouted, but quickly realized that it was kind of pointless, because every single person there was screaming and running away. He also realized that was probably a bad thing, but he had a kind of single-minded focus on finding Enjolras at that point.

 _ **Okay, if I was Enjolras, where would I be?**_ he thought.

 _The center of things. The statue,_ came the reply before Grantaire even realized what was happening.

"The statue!" he shouted to the others. they nodded and followed him through the crowd, pushing other people out of the way to get to their friends as quickly as they could. Grantaire searched for Enjolras everywhere, trying to see his hair or the red jacket he always wore, but he couldn't find him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Grantaire knew that he should be searching for his other friends, too, that Enjolras wasn't the only important one, but he could only focus on one thing at that point, and that one thing was Enjolras.

"Enjolras!" he yelled again.

"Grantaire. Grantaire, I'm over here," Enjolras' voice was so quiet Grantaire barely heard him, and he couldn't tell whether Enjolras had actually spoken, or whether it was all in his head.

Grantaire rushed over to him. "God, are you okay?" he asked. "Stupid question. You're not ok. What the hell happened?"

Enjolras was sitting on the ground, leaning against the base of the statue. His usually tan skin was white as a sheet, he had a black eye, and he looked absolutely terrified.

"Two shots," he managed to get out, "And then everyone panicked and I as trying to get to the others, we got separated, and someone punched me when I tried to get past them and I never found them and I don't know if they're okay. Christ, R, what if one of them got hurt?"

"'Chetta and Cosette and "Ponine are all here, they're finding everyone else, it's going to be fine, I promise," Grantaire said calmly, although he was barely holding himself together. But he had to stay calm, because Enjolras needed him right now, and he could do it for Enjolras, of course he could. "Right now we're going to get you back to 'Chetta's car, okay?" Grantaire grabbed Enjolras' hand and helped him up. "You good to walk?" he asked. Enjolras shook his head, and Grantaire slipped an arm around his waist to hold him up. "We've just got to get the keys, and then we'll be good, okay?" They walked over to Musichetta, who had found Joly and Bossuet and was patiently listening to Joly's list of everything that had gone, was going, and could go wrong. Grantaire held his free hand outa and she dropped the keys in his palm with an understanding smile. Cosette was nearby, watching Marius as he gestured wildly, probably relating the day's events to her, perhaps professing his undying love. Either was likely, given that is was Marius. Éponine and Combeferre were sitting on the ground, holding hands, not saying a word, simply grateful that everything was going to be fine. Courfeyrac and Jehan were near them, also not saying a word, but Jehan was curled up in Courfeyrac's lap crying, as Courfeyrac played with his hair and tried to calm him down. Bahorel was engaged in an animated conversation with a police officer as Feuilly looked on, simultaneously concerned and amused.

"I've seen everyone, they're all fine, it's going to be okay, you hear me?" Grantaire murmured to Enjolras, pulling the blonde closer when all he could do was nod. Grantaire kept up a steady stream of chatter as they walked back to Musichetta's car, talking about everything from the classes he didn't share with Enjolras to his baby sister Lea, who had died when she was only five, to his dog named Sergeant Butterworth, anything to distract Enjolras for at least as long as it took them to get to Musichetta's car and keep him from panicking too much. Grantaire was no stranger to dealing with these kinds of situations, after all. He knew what he was doing.

When they got to the car, Grantaire unlocked the door and slid into the back seat, pulling Enjolras in behind him, until he was sitting practically sideway against the other door and Enjolras was leaning against his chest. "Enjolras?" he said quietly.

"You came," he murmured, almost sleepily, like he wasn't quite aware of exactly what he was saying or who he was talking to. "I didn't think you would. I thought you hated me. Jehan said I was wrong, but I didn't believe him."

"Did he now?" Grantaire couldn't help laughing at that. "He is always right." he could feel Enjolras' breathing even out a little bit. "Do you feel any calmer now?"

"I do now that you're here," Enjolras wrapped his arms around Grantaire, snuggling even closer to him than Grantaire thought was possible. Enjolras looked up at him, and Grantaire smiled like it was one of the best days of his life. (It was certainly on the list, in a weird way. "The guy I might be totally in love with almost has  panic attack at a rally gone wrong and I save him and then we snuggle in the back of a car that belongs to someone I've known for approximately six hours but she bought me pizza so she's cool" just didn't have the same ring to it as "The time I got a fish for my birthday when I was seven and named it James Bond.")

"Combeferre says you're good for me. I hear your voice in my head, you know," Enjolras told him matter-of-factly, like this was a totally normal conversation to have.

"I figured. I hear yours too." Grantaire told him, since Enjolras said it, and if they didn't have the conversation now, they probably never would. "I don't quite get it, but it's there."

"I have your notebook," Enjolras told him, since they were being honest with each other, and this seemed like a logical transition to him at the time. "I didn't read anything, though, if you care about that sort of thing."

"I don't really," Grantaire shrugged, "Just ask, you can read it any time. I'm glad you have it, though. I thought I might have lost it."

"It's in my bag in 'Ferre's car," Enjolras told him. He yawned. "I am exhausted.

"It happens. You can sleep, I don't mind," Grantaire told him.

"Sing to me," Enjolras commanded. "I can't sleep without music."

"What do you want me to sing?"

"Doesn't matter. Just do it."

So Grantaire wrapped his arms around Enjolras and held him tightly and sang to him until he thought he was asleep. Eventually, Grantaire drifted off too, and Cosette and Musichetta found them tangled together, both looking totally content.

"I want to take a picture, but I feel like one of them  would hate me for it," Cosette whispered.

Musichetta grinned deviously and pulled out her phone. "They don't have to hate you if they don't know it exists," she shrugged. She turned on the camera in her phone and managed to snap a picture before Grantaire woke up.

"Wait, when did you two get here?" he asked, and then whispered, "Don't be too loud, though, he's asleep."

"A minute or two ago," Cosette told him. "How is he? He didn't look great earlier."

"Fine now. He worried me for a bit, though. He was freaking out, he thought someone was going to die or something."

"He tends to do that," Musichetta told Grantaire, "He tries his best to hide it, but we can all tell. He puts too much pressure on himself, then thinks it's his fault when even the littlest things go wrong. Joly said he's been better since you came along, though."

"Yeah, apparently Combeferre said I was good for him. first time anyone's ever said that about me"

Musichetta smiled understandingly. "It's just the four of us, so we can go now if you want," she told him.

"'Éponine’s with 'Ferre, before you ask," Cosette added. "I swear, he was more worried about her than she was about him, and she was terrified. Marius is going with Courf again, because apparently he thinks one of the rules of carpool etiquette is that you have to leave in the same car you came in." she shook her head and laughed.

"You should probably wake him up, though," Musichetta pointed to the miraculously still-sleeping Enjolras. "I do prefer my passengers to wear seatbelts when possible."

Grantaire tossed her the keys and set about the process of waking Enjolras while the two got settled in the front seat. "Enj. Hey, Enjolras," he ruffled his hair lightly.

"What?" Enjolras reluctantly opened his eyes and looked up  at Grantaire. His voice was thick from sleep. Why'd you wake me up, R? I was comfy. I don't think I like you anymore."

"Blame 'Chetta, she's the one who likes everyone to wear seatbelts," Grantaire joked.

"Seatbelts are a necessary safety feature in most moving vehicles," Enjolras said, completely monotone, like he was quoting from a textbook and Grantaire was unsure of whether he was serious or not. Then he burst out laughing, so Grantaire figured he was kidding, for the most part.

"Alright, up we go," Grantaire said. He extracted himself from Enjolras' grip and sat up straight to put his seatbelt on because Musichetta insisted, and Enjolras promptly fell over, his head landing in Grantaire's lap. Cosette giggled. "Okay, your turn," Grantaire pushed Enjolras up so he could sit in his own seat. He studiously ignored the commentary from the front of the car, even though he was thinking what they were saying.

Enjolras, like the mature adult he technically was, buckled his own seatbelt. Musichetta turned around. "Everyone good?" she asked, trying her best to suppress a smile when she saw Enjolras slumping against Grantaire's side and the shock on Grantaire’s face, like he couldn't believe this was actually happening to him. She failed miserably. "Off we go, then," she said.

The drive home was quiet, but it wasn't nearly as silent as the ride there. This was a peaceful quiet, thankful that, aside from a few bruises and Bossuet's case of (in Joly's opinion) scarlet fever, everyone in their group was going to be perfectly fine.

Enjolras did not sleep on their way back, but he was as close to Grantaire as he could be, and as they drove, he slowly reached for Grantaire's hand until their fingers were intertwined, and Grantaire slipped his free arm around his shoulders. They met at the Musain, as was their custom after everything that ever happened in their lives. Grantaire was learning that very quickly.

"Really," he said to Enjolras as they pulled up, "You guys should just pay rent here. I don't think you're ever in your dorms except maybe to sleep."

Enjolras looked at him, slightly confused. "I thought that was the point of a dorm room," he said. He sounded completely baffled. "You're actually supposed to spend time there?"

"Come on, you big good, let's get inside," Grantaire laughed. "We're going to be late for the party."

 


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they finally walked into the cafe, they were greeted by deafening cheers and a shout of "Oh my God, FINALLY!" from Courfeyrac.

Enjolras kept a tight hold on Grantaire's hand as they walked towards the cafe.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Grantaire asked quietly before he opened the door.

Enjolras looked at him, surprised and almost hurt. "Why wouldn't it be?" he asked, like Grantaire shouldn't have had to ask the question. "Whatever we have between us, it's there, and there's no reason we should feel like we have to hide it."

"If you say so," Grantaire sighed, "I guess it's now or never, then." He moved to open the door.

"Grantaire, stop," Enjolras said. Grantaire turned to face him. "Do you have a problem with all of this?" he gestured vaguely into the space around them, as if that could encompass everything that had happened to them in the past few weeks.

"Do you have a problem?" Grantaire asked, instead of answering the question, because he really didn't know what else to say.

"I don't, but you kind of seem like you do," Enjolras let go of Grantaire's hand.

"I just..." Grantaire bit his lip and looked down at the ground. "I feel like you're so dedicated to your cause and everything to do with it, and you are so far above anything I could even hope to achieve, and you've kind of made it clear on multiple occasions that I'm not going to do anything with my life, and I just feel like you deserve so much better than this."

Enjolras listened to Grantaire quietly, not interrupting with an argument for one of the first times in his life. He tried his best to hide the pain he felt when Grantaire said he felt like he wasn't going to do anything with his life. Enjolras, though, was not particularly skilled in disguising what he was feeling.

"None of that is true, Grantaire, not a word of it, and if I made you feel that way, I apologize. Sometimes I don't realize the effect my words can have on others," Enjolras said finally. He took Grantaire's hands in his own and looked the other man in the eye. "You are a fantastic, wonderful person," he told him, "And if anything, I don't deserve you. I don't know what would have happened to me today at the rally had you not been there, but wouldn't have been good. you saved me out there, R. And can I tell you something else?"

"Depends on what it is," Grantaire smiled.

"Well," Enjolras sighed, "I always thought I would have something extremely poetic to say in this situation, but it doesn't really seem necessary now."

Grantaire rolled his eyes. "Just say it, then!" 

Enjolras lowered his eyes and blushed. Grantaire had thought that nothing in the world could making Enjolras any more attractive than he already was. He was wrong.

"Here's the thing," Enjolras said timidly, looking back up at Grantaire, "I really like you, R, and I know I'm probably not the best at this whole relationship thing, but I'm willing to try if you are and - what?" he stopped talking when he heard Grantaire let out and exasperated sigh.

"You are ridiculous," Grantaire said affectionately. Then he kissed him. And to his surprise, Enjolras kissed him back. And if Grantaire were to tell you that this wasn't one of the best moments of his life, he would be a liar.

Enjolras smiled at him. "We'll talk about everything later," he promised Grantaire. "But let's just let ourselves be happy for now, ok?"

Grantaire laughed and took his hand again. "We can be happy now," he agreed, "happy is good."

When they finally walked into the cafe, they were greeted by deafening cheers and a shout of "Oh my God, FINALLY!" from Courfeyrac. Jehan was sitting in Courfeyrac's lap and he looked like he was about to faint from happiness. Grantaire looked at Enjolras. His face was bright red, and it got even brighter when he noticed Grantaire looking at him. But he soon became comfortable, and he and Grantaire sat down with Courfeyrac and Jehan (and also Combeferre and Éponine, who were definitely a thing now) and Grantaire pulled Enjolras into his lap and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist (because Enjolras was his boyfriend now, apparently. How weird was that?).

And Grantaire stayed with Enjolras that night, because Enjolras was afraid he wasn't going to sleep. With Grantaire there, though, he fell asleep faster than ever, and slept better than he had in weeks. And when they woke up, they were so tangled together that you couldn't really tell whose limbs were whose, and Enjolras head was on Grantaire's chest. They stayed there all morning, talking about books and music and their favorite animals, of nothing important and everything significant. In those hours, time seemed to freeze for the two of them, and for the first time in both of their lives, they were filled with the assurance that everything was going to be ok.

 


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You really don't want to do this."

"You really don't want to do this," Grantaire said to Enjolras a week later, after everyone had left the cafe. Enjolras had promised Musichetta that he would clean up, and Grantaire had stayed with him, because he figured that was what one did in that kind of situation. They were setting some chairs up around one of the tables when Grantaire said this, and Enjolras dropped what he was doing (literally dropped - the chair was very loud when it hit the floor and Grantaire would have sworn he'd jumped about six feet in the air when he heard it) and looked at Grantaire, his expression a mix of concern and confusion.

"I don't know what you mean," he said quietly, "Do you not want this? Is it moving too quickly for you? Because I totally understand if it's too fast and if you're not read, you just need to tell me and I will do whatever you need me to. Communication is very important." he pushed a hand through his hair and it stuck out in every direction. Grantaire thought he looked kind of adorable, really, but he would never say that out loud, he would just make it sound awkward.

"It's not that I don't want it, I totally do, and it's not too fast, it's perfect, but I just... you..." words really were not Grantaire's strong point when they didn't involve a pen and paper.

"I what?"

"I don't know if your really want to get yourself involved with this mess," Grantaire told him. "It's bad enough that I have to deal with it all every day, and that Jehan's gone and dragged himself into it when he totally doesn't deserve to be dealing with me. I'm a mess, Enj, and the more you come to realize that, the more you're going to hate me for it, and I'd rather you didn't hate me, so maybe it would be more sensible if we just stopped this before it went any further." he looked down at his feet, wishing he hadn’t said anything, because Enjolras suddenly looked very angry.

"Don't say that!" Enjolras snapped, and Grantaire winced. "I'm sorry," he said quickly," I shouldn't have done that. But sit down on the couch. I think we need to talk about some things."

Grantaire sat down on one of the small couches right by the counter, which Courfeyrac and Combeferre usually commandeered during the meetings. Enjolras sat next to him, facing him, and took one of Grantaire's hands in his own.

"Now, what seems to be the problem, love?" he asked, squeezing Grantaire's hand gently.

"I already told you," Grantaire refused to look at Enjolras, instead staring straight ahead. "You don't want to get involved with me."

"But I do," Enjolras said insistently, "I want to be a part of your life, R, and more than just seeing you at meetings, but something's keeping you from letting me. And I need to know why so I can convince you it's not true."

"You don't want details, they'll just scare you away even faster," Grantaire warned him, but Enjolras was stubborn.

"Just tell me," he coaxed him, "I won't run, I promise. You were there last week, you know I have my fair share of problems."

Grantaire sighed reluctantly, but he knew Enjolras wasn't going to give in any time soon, and they were going to have to talk about this eventually anyway. He braced himself for the impact.

"I've been a nervous kid my whole life," he confessed, "I was bullied a lot in gradeschool, none of the kids liked me, and I had a lot of trouble making friends. The fact that my mom was a teacher did not help my case. Kids actually accused me of cheating on tests a few times. Seventh and eighth grade were the worst, though. I thought about ending it a  couple times, but I didn't want to give them the satisfaction," Grantaire wanted to cry when he realized he'd never actually told that to anybody before, not even Jehan.

"You're okay," Enjolras whispered, "I'm here."

"Then I got to high school and I left those kids behind, and I met Jehan, and I felt like people liked me, you know? And I did the plays, and it was good for the first two year, because I had people and a place and it felt a little bit like home. But then it was junior year, and you know how it is, all of a sudden they're telling you that this is the year that decides the rest of your life, and" he paused for a moment to catch his breath. His shoulders were shaking as he tried to hold back the tears.

"And I was just hit with the paralyzing fear of the future, so I stopped caring and tried to distract myself, because that was the only way I knew how to cope. And on top of all that, I realized I was gay, which is an extremely hard thing to come to terms with in a strict Catholic school where the nuns tell you Santa Claus promotes the devil, and then I started hearing you, and then the panic attacks started around Halloween. And I had nobody to talk to about any of it except Jehan but I couldn't saddle him with all of it, I mean it's bad enough he has his own problems and then he has to carry gum with him all the time because I forget and he has to watch me like a hawk in case I get bad. Well, I mean he doesn't have to but he does anyway and now you're here and for some unthinkable reason you want me but I don't want to saddle you with this you don't deserve it nobody does," Grantaire broke off with a sob, and suddenly the tears flooded his vision and he'd known this was a bad idea he shouldn't have said all that, there was a reason he didn't talk about it. And as suddenly as the tears game, they were gone, he was past tears now. He was sobbing, gasping for air that wasn't coming, and he was terrified.

But Enjolras there, he felt Enjolras' hand on the small of his back because at some point he had doubled over with the crying and Enjolras was whispering to him, "I'm here, Grantaire, and you're fine, and it's going to be good now, I promise," echoing the same words Grantaire had spoken to him the week before, "Everything’s fine, you're going to be fine," Enjolras promised him. "Just breathe. Focus on my voice, and try to breathe."

And Grantaire slowly came back to himself, focusing on Enjolras' voice and he felt like he could breathe again, even though he was still crying and didn't really know why. When he was sure that Grantaire was at least a little bit calmer, Enjolras pulled him close. Grantaire buried his face in Enjolras' chest and cried into his t-shirt. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I don't know why, I'm sorry," he repeated over and over until there were no tears left to cry.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Enjolras whispered, kissing the top of his head. "Nothing."

And when Grantaire's tears were spent, and he finally came back to himself, he looked up at Enjolras, his eyes wide. "You're still here," he said, shocked, but happily so, and also a little confused. "Why? I'm sorry for ruining your shirt," he added, almost as an afterthought. It was a nice shirt. He really did feel bad.

"Of course I'm here," Enjolras said affectionately, "And I'm not leaving you any time soon."  _Not ever,_  he wanted to add in his head, but Grantaire would have heard him either way, so he said it out loud.

"You should, though," Grantaire said, with all the foolproof logic of a person who had just experienced a debilitating panic attack. "I'm toxic."

"That's not true," Enjolras said seriously. If there was one thing he was going to convince Grantaire of before the night was over, that was it. "And you're right that I don't deserve you, but not in the way you think. You are so strong, Grantaire. I don't think I could have made it through everything you did and come out alive. You are strong, and you are grave, and you are everything I've ever wished I could be, and I will have to work the rest of my life to even come close to deserving you."

Grantaire didn't know what to say, so he decided that, since he hadn't scared Enjolras away yet, whatever came out of his mouth next probably wouldn't deter him. "You're still here," Turned out to be the only thing he seemed capable of saying.

Enjolras laughed. "Yes I am, and I'm not going anywhere. Because you know what else?"

"What?"

"I think I'm a little in love with you," Enjolras whispered in his ear, and Grantaire turned his head and kissed him like it was the only thing that mattered.

"I think I'm a little in love with you, too," Grantaire whispered against his lips, "Of course, that could just be the mind-reading talking. We'll have to wait and see." he felt Enjolras smile.

They stayed there a while longer, kissing and whispering "I love you"s, Enjolras still convincing Grantaire that he was worth it, and Grantaire finding himself believing, a little bit.

"Will you be okay?" Enjolras asked him as they got up to leave the cafe. He slipped his arm around Grantaire's waist, and the smaller man leaned into him.

"I don't know," he confessed, "I haven't been this bad in a long time. I probably won't sleep.

"Would it help if I was there?"

"Are you offering?" Grantaire was surprised. 

"Well, I know 'Ferre's definitely with 'Ponine, and Courf's at yours, so Cosette is probably with Marius," Enjolras explained, "so if you want me to stay with you, I can."

"It would be good for me, I think," Grantaire admitted.

"That settles that, then," Enjolras decided. "I'll text Jehan so he knows where you are."

The walk back to Enjolras' dorm seemed short after that, and they didn't see a soul. It didn't take long for them to realize how exhausted they really were once they got there. Grantaire changed into one of Enjolras' t-shirts ("Oh, sharing clothing," he joked, "How domestic of us!" Enjolras was just happy to hear him laughing.) They both collapsed on Enjolras' bed, fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Grantaire rested his head on Enjolras' chest, and Enjolras wrapped his arms around Grantaire, carding his fingers softly through Grantaire's dark curls as the both fell asleep.

"You make a good pillow," Grantaire whispered sleepily, and Enjolras laughed before pulling the blankets up to cover them both, turning out the light, kissing Grantaire one last time, and settling in for the best night's sleep he'd ever had.

 

 

 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What are your feelings on cookies?"

When they woke up the next morning, Enjolras and Grantaire were still tangled together. 

"Morning, sleepyhead," Enjolras said affectionately, "Time to face the day."

Grantaire muttered something unintelligible but rather insulting and pulled the blanket over his head. Enjolras pulled hit right back off again. "You are a cruel, cruel person," Grantaire said, turning his head to look up at him, "Depriving me of my darkness."

"You've had enough darkness in your life to last you for a while," Enjolras told him, belatedly realizing that it was probably the cheesiest thing he'd ever said, "Life's too short to sleep all day."

"I beg to differ," Grantaire said, but he was too late. Enjolras was up and out of bed before Grantaire finished his sentence, and he took the blanket with him. Grantaire, suddenly deprived of both his pillow and his source of warmth, had no choice but to follow him.

Enjolras was looking out the window, and Grantaire walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around him. "You smell good," he informed the back of Enjolras' neck. He felt Enjolras laugh. They stayed that way for a while, looking out at the world that somehow seemed a little bit brighter than it had before, wrapped up in each other.

"We should do something," Enjolras said finally.

"Like what?" Grantaire asked.

"I don't know. Something."

"You have to be more specific, Apollo," Grantaire laughed.

"Let's go to the city," Enjolras decided.

"And do what?"

"Be alive," he said, like it was the simplest answer in the world.

"Only you could make that sound like a great plan," Grantaire smiled. "I’ll need to at least change my clothes first, though."

"Jehan dropped some off this morning, before we woke up," Enjolras told him.

"Of course he did," Grantaire laughed. Only Jehan. "Where are they?" 

"On the desk," Enjolras told him. "Your notebook's there, too, you dropped it last night when we came in."

"Thank you for saving it for me," Grantaire pressed a kiss to Enjolras' shoulder and went to change his clothes. "What exactly are doing today, then?" he asked as he pulled the t0shirt over this had. "I mean, 'be alive' really isn't too specific."

"Oh, I have plans," Enjolras assured him, "What are your feelings on cookies?"

 


End file.
